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Coping: WoWW, Rain, and Pain

Normally, life out here at the “end of the string” is pretty good. Until yesterday, to be precise: That’s when things got exceptionally weird – resulting in a shorter than usual column this morning.

It began Wednesday morning when I got up to put the finishing touches of our www.Peoplenomics.com report.

As always, I got up, used “the facilities,” weighed myself, and then wandered into the kitchen in my “altogether.”

I looked at the close on the stock: Recent model stove and it said 5:30 on the button. I made a special note of it because even number times are a 1:10 long shot. So I looked again.

No, sure as the Dickens it was 5:30. So, as it my habit, I wandered back into the master bath. Attacked the face with my electric razors, inspected my teeth (I was them later because it makes horrible flavors mixed with coffee) and slowly got dressed.

I think wandered back into the kitchen expecting it to be 5:43 to 5:45.

No.

Now the clock on the stove (I kid you not!) declared it was 5:23.

No! Rational mind was challenged but I had specifically noted the time (looked away and back at it) a couple of times at 5:30. There were no timers set either (Elaine hates clocks except for cooking rice…everything else is by sight and texture.

To this moment I am stumped.

The rest of the day “train-wrecked” on me, too: An Amazon return hadn’t been picked up (missing parts) and the UPS worker in wherever told me my address wouldn’t fit on their database.

Huh?

Brent, my UPS guy comes out every couple of days and everything from Amazon gets here on schedule. So I asked the (foreign country) worker if anyone was going to ever get around to calling me…and he said no.

I explained that if the failed return ends up getting billed by Amazon, I’ll write a scathing letter to the executive committee of UPS signed with my consider signature: WTF?

So finally we knock off working on the house and I make a pizza and snooze off in my big leather chair abou8t 8:15. It had been one of those days that gets you down.

Did last worth a damn, though.

8:35 rolls around and Elaine is shaking me awake: “George, the wind has come up something fierce and your chop saw is going to get wet if we don’t get it back into the shop.”

Holy shit! I’d turned on Weather Underground and sure enough, there was 70-miles of yellow, orange and reds showing up on the radar.

Well, fine, Elaine and I carry the chop saw (on its stand which is NOT made of aluminum entirely) over to the shop.

“Don’t forget that leftover box of laminate from the studio project, either..”